


Go back to running (that's my advice)

by Justadashofsarcasm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Finn can fight, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poe just wants to hug finn, Sparring, gay space babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:39:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justadashofsarcasm/pseuds/Justadashofsarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He twitches once, then suddenly he's moving, striking, snake-like with jabbing and weaving, becoming wilder with slamming elbows, kneeing and full on assaulting the stationary thick pole, Poe winces once or twice as a kick lands wide and bare feet hit an extruding bar but Finn shows no signs of pain or tiring as he continues, becoming more and more agitated. It seemed to Poe that he needed to take out some anger on something other than unsuspecting gym equipment. Something or someone that could fight back, tire him out... Hold him after.<br/>~<br/>I read Thisissirius' "Deflect" and wanted a Finn version... so here we are~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go back to running (that's my advice)

**Author's Note:**

> Sup guys, so I read Thisissirius' deflect and just really wanted a slightly dark!finn so I took it upon myself to write this in one night, so apologies for any and all mistakes.  
> Hope you guys enjoy!  
> (I live for feed back so feel free to comment or hit me up on either my normal or booklr blog - hopefullysarcastic or thatpaperuniverse)

Poe's beating out a little restlessness on a punch bag in the base's fitness facility when Finn strides in. An ominous cloud seems to hang around him, mouth pulled down at the corners, brows furrowed, shoulders hunched to his ears and fists balled so tightly his knuckles are a bone white.

 

Finn strides purposefully to the sparring dummy on the opposite side of the room, the gazes of most in the room on him seeming to have no effect as he efficiently strips down to a black long sleeve tee and leggings. Shoes and socks are shed and flung to the floor as he settles into a guarding stance, coiled and full of broiling energy.

 

He twitches once, then suddenly he's moving, striking, snake-like with jabbing and weaving, becoming wilder with slamming elbows, kneeing and full on assaulting the stationary thick pole, Poe winces once or twice as a kick lands wide and bare feet hit an extruding bar but Finn showed no signs of pain or tiring as he continued, becoming more and more agitated.

 

It seemed to Poe that he needed to take out some anger on something other than an unsuspecting gym equipment. Something or someone that could fight back, tire him out... Hold him after.

Poe brushed the last thought away as he made his decision, kicked off his own shoes and jogged past curious and wary gazes, over to Finn and waited until he saw a lull in between a particularly vicious hook and a potential roundhouse before clearing his throat and carefully uttering his friends name.

 

"Finn, buddy,-"

He swings around abruptly to face the pilot and stares for an eerily long second before recognition hints in his troubled eyes and his hands drop only slightly. Yeah, Poe thinks, Finn needs this. Finn looks as if he's about to snarl some form of "fuck off I'm not in the mood" when Poe blurts

"want a mobile sparring partner? Pretty sure your last opponent tapped out five minutes ago."

 

(Which is true, as one or two bars hang limply at ninety degrees to their previous position)

A beat of tense silence hangs before a jerked nod has Finn and Poe circling each other on the mats in the centre of the room, a ring of people slowly drifting over to see an obviously angered stormtrooper take on the resistance's best pilot. Poe notes with relief two of his squad, Jessika and Snap, standing silently, arms crossed across their chests, ready to intervene if needed. But they wouldn't be, Poe was sure, this was just Finn, right? Ray of sunshine, puppy dog eyed, hand grabbing Finn who-

 

-Lunged straight for his chest, all tightly coiled rage and something else Poe caught a glimpse of before he was parrying blow after blow thrown his way, noting almost absent mindedly that the soldier's fighting style, whilst lacking finesse, was an effective and deadly combination of moves that he must have been taught by the First Order and people he'd sparred with since he'd woken from his coma.

 

Trading blows became increasingly difficult as Finn became frustrated with the simple blocking poe was using to avoid hurting the man attacking him. So he fought dirtier, aiming to take his legs, going for a left hook before dropping and swinging one leg around to take out Poe's knee, just a little too slow as he danced just clear and took Finns toes to his calf instead. Finn sprang up and rained down a few more blows before they broke apart as Finn took a few steps back to regain his breath and allowed Poe to realise how close he'd got to the edge of the mats -

 

How'd _that_ happened?

 

Finn sunk low and raised his guard again, forcing his breathing to slow and ignoring the sweat glistening on his forehead and back. Poe took stock of his best friend as he prepared for the second round, taking in the more downturned corners to his mouth, the slight... wariness? That was definitely a slight anxiety in that gaze and in that moment Poe knew he needed to end the fight before Finn forgot his own body and ignored the obvious injuries that were starting to affect his stance and attacks, the bleeding knuckles, bruised foot, a hesitation to use his right leg to kick hinting at something twisted and his his slumped shoulders broadcasting the pain the scar on his back was causing him. _This had to stop._ There was a reason behind this and they would _talk_. _Dammit_.

 

With this objective, Poe raised his own tired arms and focused on trying to find a way to take advantage of Finn without outright flooring him or choking him out. Finn may have the height, bulk and shear determination, but Poe, he had agility, finesse, deadly accurate strikes. There had to be something - Before a plan could be formed though they were at it again, this time Poe lowered his centre of gravity and finally, blow after blow allowed him to infiltrate his opponent's guard, grab his elbow, link his left leg behind his friends knees and yank him to the floor where he pinned one flailing arm behind his back and the other by his side. Sitting on his legs Poe leant down to quietly speak into Finns ear when he leaned forward just a fraction too far and in a flurry of movement he was suddenly pinned with Finn's weight bearing down on his pressure points.

 

He chose that moment to look into Finn's eyes, furious, agitated and yet also triumphant. The pilot felt a mix of feelings, some that would need to be addressed in private later. Others made poe want to simply wrap the trooper in blankets and hide him from the world.

 

The moment was broken as clapping burst out around them and Finn, oh maker, Finn flinched visibly before actually realising the position he was in and leaping to his feet as if burned. Poe followed him and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Feeling better bud?"

It's a feeble question, the answer clearly "absolutely fucking not" but Poe asks anyway and leaves the mat with him, making sure his friend doesn't run off now, not now that he's put all this energy into wearing him out so he can actually verbalise what's wrong. _This_   _needs privacy_. Poe glanced around to the chattering crowd behind him, some grinning triumphantly, credits in hand, others looking wary and others still had worried expressions, not least of which Jessika and Snap, who wander over, keeping a distance from Finn before Poe clears his throat quietly.

"You wanna give us a little privacy?"

A raised eyebrow and a flick of his eyes has his crew hearding the small protesting crowd out of the room before the door shuts with an echoing clank and it's just the two of them.

"Hey Finn, b-"

"Don't call me that."

"OK b-Finn. Wanna talk about whatever the hell's going on with you?"

Finn avoided his friend's eyes and stared hard at something above Poe's right shoulder.

"C'mon man you're scaring me a little here."

That earned him a huffed laugh, not a happy one though, a cynical cold thing that made Poe feel even more on edge. He was supposed to be the one _comforting here dammit,_ what was wrong?

 

Finn stood a little too stiffly, arms behind his back and voice devoid of emotion as he recounted General Organa asking for his knowledge of life on the finaliser and stormtroopers in general. Of information on the relationships between soldiers and finally, what happened to those who disobeyed. Those who did not follow the First Order's idea of the perfect soldier or were injured just a little too severely to be used for anything other than spare parts.

 

Poe struggled to rein in his fury as Finn recounted all this, the anger coursing through his veins burned. The anger was useless, he knew, but what could he do? What could he _possibly_ do to make it OK again after his friend, his _best friend,_ grew up in such an authoritarian environment? He wanted to go back in time, steal the little baby Finn from the troopers and hide him on a nice safe planet with _blankets_ and _toys_ and _love_. He couldn't do that. But he could do this.

"Finn I need you to look me in the eyes-"

Dark eyes met his as Finn relaxed slightly at the earnest look he was met with, 

"And now I need you to say two things OK? I am safe, I am with friends. Can you do that? Just that one sentence? For me? Please?"

Finn finally actually looked at Poe, eyes searching for more beneath that earnest look, finding compassion, not pity, calm confidence, not a slight wariness at being around a volatile stormtrooper. Finn crumpled and grabbed Poe into a rib crushing hug. 

"I am safe" a sob. "I'm with friends" 

A gasp for air and they found themselves in a heap on the floor, Poe's legs pinned down by Finn, who stretched across his lap with his arms around his ribs and his head in the crook of his neck as if that was where he was meant to be _. It was_ , Poe thought, absent mindedly running one hand up and down the strong back beneath and the other coming to rest on his neck, thumb brushing the short hair at the nape. _This was exactly where Finn was supposed to be,_ and he'd be dammed if he couldn't let Finn know that.


End file.
